Alternate Endings
by fishyfin1
Summary: Initially titled 'Change.' Series of one shots: each chapter pertains to an episode in the new season. Alternate endings in favour of Hameron.
1. The Right Stuff'

**A/N: Don't own it. If i did, House and Cameron would have gotten together a LONG time ago. **

**Hey guys - this is my first fic on House. I'm a huge Hameron shipper, and got this idea after last weeks episode. I also started writing it after last weeks episode - and I'm not kidding - i had to stop practically after every paragraph I wrote. So if it doesn't flow at some points, I'm really sorry. I just don't have the energy to go back and change/ edit. It honestly took me six days to write 2000 words. This is what happens when you keep fanfic a secret from your family. Anyways - rant over - go ahead and enjoy some H/C fun. **

* * *

He was having fun. Whittling down newbies: making them do his dirty work; a brand new bunch of minds to pick apart; hearts and dreams to shatter. They were his puppets and he was having the time of his life pulling their strings. 

And, he hated it. Every time he looked at one of them, it would remind him of his old ducklings. Wilson was _definitely_ not helping. Instead of sugaring him and saying what he wanted to hear, his supposed best friend had decided to be so damn correct. He had actually got House thinking that he was _hallucinating_. He had accepted the idea so easily because it was the only thing that explained the relieved flashes of pain when he had his 'visions.'

He missed them; he had known, sensed that he was growing attached. There were signs early on that those three were different. So instead of embracing the feeling he pushed it away – and he was paying.

Seeing the blond wombat, the man who he hated for reasons that would stay unmentioned in his head, had made him – dare he say it – happy. Hearing the Aussie accent again had made him feel warm during the operation, warmth he was a stranger to. He'd lingered too long on the fact that Chase was in his mind, and before his knew it, the blond sight was gone. He had always hated change.

If he took them back, he fantasized; he'd have some lobby art again. Lobby art he and his office had sorely missed. Lobby art that had become more attractive. It would make his fantasies much more vivid and believable now that she looked like one of his hookers. He did prefer her brown hair – it was more Cameron – but he wasn't complaining.

Meeting her at the ER hadn't taken too much thought. It had been three weeks and he wanted – needed – to see her again. Not only was she easy on the eyes, she knew him. She new why he did things, how his mind worked, what his next words were, and she wasn't afraid of him. He was proud of how she had grown a back bone and could stand her own ground now.

11 o'clock now, 40 minutes since he'd spoken to her, and he decided to head home. Pulling his legs gingerly off his desk, he grabbed his cane that rested against the glass. Turning around he put his weight on the cane as he bent to pick up his guitar case. Slinging the case up on his shoulder and regaining balance, he slowly made his way to the door, his thoughts not inside the four walls. Before realizing what was going on, he felt a pair of small hands on his chest, sending that pleasurable warmth coursing through his veins. The very vision he had been thinking about mere seconds before was standing before him, stopping him from crashing into her.

"Dreaming, House?" Cameron smiled at him, her eyes savoring the man before her. Though older than her, Cameron could not deny the obvious fact that he left a trail of sexiness everywhere he went, which she found extremely attractive.

"Going home?" she questioned, her eyes lingering on his guitar case, hearing the music he created with those splendid fingers in her head. Music that made her weak in the knees because it was him playing the melodic notes.

His eyes meanwhile, were locked on her hands that were still warming his chest. They were right above his heart: it made it even easier for him to believe that it beat for hear. Almost as if she could read his thoughts, her eyes flew to her hands and she hurriedly pulled them off his chest, bringing them to rest at her side.

Grinning at the blush creeping into her creamy skin, he answered her question, "Me? No. I'm planning to follow – what's her name – Greta home. Did you see the amazing work she got done? Man, they totally rival Cuddy's! Maybe you should get some." He stepped back, glad to have a reason to stare at her chest.

Looking down at her breasts, a modest size, Cameron frowned, "I don't know. I like it how it is. A bigger size would make me awkward, self conscious. I'd look like a hooker."

"Exactly! Complete the package." He watched her playfully roll her eyes as the figure that he'd memorized in the past three years walked past him and sank into his chair with a sigh.

"Feels so good to be back, behind a desk, in _your_ chair," she shot him a playful smile. "That's the worst part about ER: we don't get our own office."

Turning to face her, he gently put the guitar case down, having a feeling that this was going to take time. Cameron had her arms splayed across the arm rests, and her head was tilted back, eyes closed, and allowing House full access of her long silky neck. He ran his tongue across his lips as she crossed her legs, and her beige skirt slid up a few inches up.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, House looked at Cameron with a relatively clean mind, "So, why did you come back?"

Almost as if she was expecting the question, Cameron calmly stared into his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"You were applying for better jobs – the one with Wice. What happened? You know you're qualified for something more than ER. You didn't work with me for three years just to go back to the basics. So – why, what happened?"

He watched her body tense up slowly, like it was divided into parts. Her head straightened up, so that it rested on a tight neck over square shoulders. Her arms clenched the chair and her legs uncrossed. Whatever the reason was, it made her uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to know? It doesn't matter what I say – you'll just twist it into something that pleases you. If I tell you the truth and you don't like it, you'll just say that everybody lies."

"Well they do." He moved to stand beside his desk, partially leaning against it, never taking his piercing gaze off her. "But _you _won't – at least not now. Maybe you'll try to avoid it, but for how long? So… why did you come back?"

Forcing her body to appear relaxed, she couldn't control the opposite feelings inside. She hated him at the moment: he knew exactly why she had come back and was just toying with her; taunting her. She had come in here today thinking that maybe the two of them could have a normal conversation; that now, since they were no longer working with each other, they could be … friends. Or whatever the relationship House had with Cuddy and Wilson was called. She had been wrong though; fooled by the pretense that the past could be left behind – that something _good_ would result. Just a few minutes together and it was clear that the tension between them would never be resolved. She felt a bubble of anger gurgle into her chest. He couldn't have left it alone, could he?

"What do you want me to say? What will make you happy House?" Her voice got continually higher, and she flew out of the chair, making her way towards him: movement had a great way of letting feelings out. "You couldn't have left it, could you? You want the truth? You want to be proven right again? Fine! I came back because of you, okay? I kept telling myself that it would be good to be away for you, to become my own person, to do my own thing. But I couldn't. I couldn't work knowing that I wouldn't be seeing you. It didn't feel right. There – you happy now?"

She stopped mere inches away from him, and she fought to calm herself. He always did this to her: make her heart race; her heat rise; her emotions change; and above all, increase the need to be closer to him. She clenched her fists and held them at her side, too scared to touch him, knowing that at their physical contact things would get too sexually charged.

He knew the affect he had on her; knew the only reason she wasn't looking into his eyes, touching him, was that once she did, they would get lost. Watching her fight for self control, and realizing that they were standing in the exact spot that they had shared their first kiss, save the fact that their roles were reversed, his lips slightly curved into a smile. Last time she had initiated the kiss; this time, he was standing in her spot; therefore, he should rightfully get the honours.

"Yeah, I am," he murmured and inched closer so that their feet met.

Her eyes flew up to meet his, the startled expression on her face sending shots of pleasure down his spine. It also created an extremely enticing look: her green orbs wide, her cheeks flushed to a tinge of pink, her mouth rounded; soft, inviting. His hands found their way to her waist, snaking around her body, and yet unwilling to bring her closer. Both were oblivious to the sound of his cane falling to the floor; too focused on the fact that neither was drawing away.

He seemed to be waiting for her to make a move, because he didn't go further. Not having to think, Cameron's hands took their position at his chest, and at an antagonizing pace made their way in opposite directions; one coming to a rest at base of his neck, the other on his waist.

He sucked in a breath, feeling her hands roaming across his body. His turn now, he buried a palm in her luxurious hair – now blonde – and let the left fall onto her hip. Watching her carefully, he felt her breath get uneven against his neck as he left the hip to move beneath her silk blouse. Their skin on skin contact caused Cameron's eyes to flutter to a close and bring her hands back to his chest, clutching his shirt in her tight fist. She moaned his name, relishing in his nails scraping her skin. Bringing his other hand to join the first, his talented fingers traced indescribable patterns on her skin; finally halting when she could take it no more.

She could feel the heat radiating off her, especially from the back which felt like fire. His hands seemed to burn an imprint into the skin at her mid back and at the base of her neck; as he brought her body flush against his. Trying to regain her breathing, she opened her eyes to find him staring back at her: the look itself churned the insides of her stomach. Smoothing the fabric that she had crushed between her hands, she found herself reaching up to touch his stubble; a spark of victory as he closed his eyes.

Her hands against his face had the same reaction they did last time, and he breathed hard, bringing his face closer to hers. Only their senses guided them, their sixth taking over for their lack of sight.

The heat and tension seemed to glow off the pair, as their lips parted ever so slightly; the breath of the other doing what tongues usually did: moistening the lips; preparing them for the inevitable.

Having already done it before, they skipped over the casualties, pressing hard against each other: everywhere their bodies met, but more so at the lips. The kiss was slow and long, tongues and lips taking their time to memorize, to check, to correct their fantasies. House could feel a low growl build up at the back of his throat, and when he let it out, it entwined with Cameron's moan, throwing them deeper into their activities.

It was only after they stopped to catch their breath, that their minds got some oxygen. As realization crept in accompanied by the life giving gas, it dawned onto Cameron exactly what she was doing. So caught up in just _being_ with House; that she had forgotten her other commitments. Untangling herself from him, she took a step back, creating a distance between them.

Sending a wary look at her actions, House felt his heart sink, the cold rush in at the expression on her face: guilt. He took no notice of her remorse, her tears as she softly whispered, "I'm with Chase now." He didn't bother to turn to watch her walk away. His heart hardened.

And he remembered: this was why he hated change; why he hated the blonde Australian.

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**Soooo???? A review would be GREAT!!! **

**Oh- and Happy Thanksgiving to those in Canada. I'd be _really_ thankful if i got a review. Well... reviews. **


	2. 97 Seconds'

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**A/N: I always get these ideas at the end of the episodes - 'what ifs' - and since I didn't want to post 20+ separate one shots, I decided to have them all under one story. **

**This one takes place after '97 seconds' (and during) in House's point of view. And then switches to Cameron and back to House**

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I watched her teasing form retreat and walk away with that… that _Australian._ I felt like calling after her, to tell her that, 'No, I did not like the new him.'

Actually I did. I felt a sense of pride knowing that I was the reason he could now stand on his own two feet. Proud that he, who used to cower at every comment I sent out, who used to back up every thing I said, now used those brains that resided behind his thick, blonde hair. The only reason, I did _not _like the new him, was because _she _liked the new him.

I barely paid attention to the ranting of the new fellows, my head darting back ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of her.

* * *

I sat with the knife in my hand, flicking it open; snapping it shut. The shininess of the metal was mesmerizing, catching the light as it popped open, glinting despite the darkness. I wondered, as I stared past the hypnotizing object towards the electrical socket, what if, just maybe, there was light in the 'after life.' Every time a patient walks in, claiming to believe in _God_, willing to give up their life; make stupid actions because there was ultimately something, _someone_ waiting for them, I would stray them away. And yet, how could I be so sure? Wilson was right, I didn't know.

The image of the guy sticking the knife into the socket flashed through my head. He had been dead, and yet, we'd brought him back to life. I was there. And now, here I am, holding the very knife in my hand. Eve hadn't eaten the apple because she was told to. She had eaten the apple because she wanted knowledge. People said in the after life your dreams would come true. I couldn't help but wonder if mine would. Making up my mind, I got out my pager.

* * *

I opened my eyes unsure where I was. I felt light, free, oblivious to the pain in my leg. Through the haziness I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of a blonde image before everything went black.

* * *

This time when I shrugged myself awake, it was Wilson I saw: clearly, the feeling of pain rushing towards my head, not only from my leg, but also from my hand. I forced myself to pay attention to the words he blabbered, tearing my thoughts away from the pain; unsuccessful in leaving the patient behind. I needed to talk to that guy; what _exactly_ had he seen? Could the afterlife vary for each person? I tuned into Wilson again when I heard him say that he would be increasing my pain meds. I told him I loved him.

* * *

I could _not_ believe the idiots people had become. Following through a treatment was one of the basics in medicine. Only a bumbling imbecile would have been so stupid as to leave a patient without _knowing _that he took the meds. Watching Thirteen sitting there reminded me of a certain black duckling of mine. If she wasn't so keen on being hired, she would have probably quit knowing my luck these days. Covering up the patient's face, I took a last look at his serene expression before muttering a goading phrase.

* * *

It had been a completely exhausting day at the ER, and yet fulfilling. It was true when House said that I had retreated three steps, and it was true when I replied him back. Working for House had been wonderful, but there had been something lacking. Getting a new patient every two weeks - maybe longer - and then spending days working on that one person; when I could have saved numerous lives seemed almost - ironic. Three weeks in the ER and I had helped twice the number of people than in the three years under House.

Refreshed from a warm shower, I clothed myself in a fuzzy, rich wine robe which set off my damp new hair. I reached into the cupboard while standing on the white tiles of my kitchen and pulled out two wine glasses. Uncorking a three year old bottle of the blood red drink, I poured a generous amount into each glass. Tightening the robe around my tired body, I took the glass along with me as I sank into my couch, letting the fatigue drain off me.

Propping my newly shaven legs on the table in front of me, I leisurely stretched out allowing the silence to work its therapy on me. I was shaken out of my calm daze upon hearing my name.

"Allison, you look absolutely exhausted."

Robert took a seat next to mine, the identical glass in his hand. Placing a wooden coaster under both our drinks, he gently moved my feet off the table into his lap. Before I knew it, he was massaging my feet, relieving the pent up stress. I shot him a grateful smile while studying the man in front of me.

Yes: man. He had left his old ways, and grown into a mature person, one I admired. It was true that he was not the one I truly loved, and I knew that he wasn't in love with me either; but life had taught us not to be beggars.

After I sacrificed my love for my husband who died months later, I vowed to myself that the next time I fell in love; got married; I would do it for _me_. I would wait for the guy I was in love with, the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the one I wanted to start a family with. I didn't care how fairy tale like or unrealistic it sounded, I had grown up with this image in mind, witnessed it, and I wanted to experience it.

When I imagined my night in shining armor, he always looked more like Robert: the young, manly looks; the wavy hair. He definitely didn't have a limp, wasn't old, or hated people. For the longest time I willed myself to believe that I wasn't in love with House that it was – like he said – a silly school girl crush.

Time proved me wrong. I hated the fact that I was in love with this … man, but I couldn't deny it. He was the one who made me stand on my two feet. He filled my heart and broke it within the same sentence. He brought meaning to my life; emotions. No matter how much he tried to push me away, it only ended up bringing me closer. It wasn't long that he fit into my fantasies of a perfect family: we'd fight every day about our different parenting styles, finally succumbing to each other and then, once the kids were asleep, we'd spend the night away making love. Every day I would tell myself that I didn't love him that I in fact hated him, and every day I would give into my heart: time did heal wounds.

Time also tore those wounds apart and made them hurt even more. All those days that my love for him grew, the realization that we could never be together became brighter. He was House – no one could get close to him – because if they did, he built up a wall. And after all I'd been through, I _needed _a man who allowed me in; who gave as much as he received.

I had tried for sometime to find that man somewhere else, but work would not let that be, and I became frustrated. I was a person who loved, and needed to love back, and that was not happening where I was. I needed to take control of the situation – which was why, when I saw the opening, I jumped without stopping to think.

It didn't matter if the love was emotional or physical – all that mattered was that I was getting some. I had tried to push Robert away when I saw that he was getting too attached, but he refused. He and I were in the same situation: we both had figured that any sort of relationship was impossible with someone outside the hospital, so we looked inside. We weren't each other's first pick, but life was short and we weren't complaining.

That still didn't change where and with whom my heart lay. I've told myself countless times to let go off him, that all he'd ever do is push me away and hurt me; yet I can't bring myself to do so. The last thing I wanted to do was to change him or 'fix' him: he wouldn't be the same person I fell in love with.

I knew; know that life for him is hard. That dealing with the pain isn't easy; which was why I didn't mind that he popped pills. I had seen him detox and it was not a pretty sight. I never thought though, that he would actually try and kill himself. When I got the news of his stupidity (the hospital grapevine is thicker than any other normal work place) I found myself rushing to his side. Looking at him, lying there helpless; unconscious reminded me of the time when he got shot. The thought of losing him scared me so, that I had to make sure I spent every possible second with him.

Imagine my surprise when Wilson walked in the next morning and told me what happened: that he wanted to see what was on the other side, so he 'killed' himself for a few minutes. Relieved that he wasn't depressed I left him in capable hands, needing the time to think. Somehow the news didn't shock me; after all he had faked cancer to get high. Ethics had never been his strong point and I forced myself to stop thinking about him as I went on my daily routine.

I was snapped out of my thoughts once agian when I heard a distinct knocking on the door. Both Robert and I turned our heads towards the sound that only one object could create.

* * *

I had honestly thought that she had moved on, but that blonde _angel_ in my experience with the _after life _proved me wrong. Wanting to confirm my theory that there was nothing on the other side and, obviously wanting to mock her had brought me to her doorstep. Lifting my cane, I rapped it against the door and waited for the heavenly sight to greet me.

However, I wasn't so lucky. I guess 'God' had decided that too many things had been going my way because the silky hair that I saw didn't belong to her: rather to the male version of her.

Glaring at him I said, "You're not Cameron."

"How smart. Seems your team isn't the only thing starting from the bottom – so are you."

"Oh how funny. What do I do without my daily dose of humor these days?"

"Apparently come running after it. What do you want House?"

"I want Cameron."

"Well too bad you can't have her, because she's with me."

I wanted to do nothing more than wipe that smirk of his face. A smirk that looked strangely familiar: they had spent way too much time with me.

"I need to talk to her. Preferably now, then the two of you can go back to whatever you're doing."

She had sneaked up behind him and now stood beside him, the plush colour and fabric of her robe looking extremely inviting. I stared at the V of the neck, the cloth coming undone to reveal the beginning of her curves. I swallowed thinking of what was underneath.

Noticing the path of my vision she hastened to cover herself up, tightening the robe around her figure, ensuring there would be no repetition.

I smirked softly as she tried to put an annoyed expression on her face.

"What do you want House?"

Not bothering to answer, I pointedly stared at the Aussie, who quickly got my message and retreated back into the apartment leaving the two of us alone. It got me curious that he, who hated me (or tried to show distaste), was leaving me alone with his girlfriend. Maybe they weren't as serious as I thought.

Just the two of us I decided to give her a reply. "You're pathetic."

Catching my reference she grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she mocked.

"You know your hair actually got me thinking that you were… something else."

"An angel?" She had become too confident for her own good.

"More like the devil. I heard that blonde is the new red."

"Where are my horns then?"

"You think that the devil wouldn't be caught up with the modern world? He's one of the biggest fans of plastic surgery."

"You're avoiding the topic."

I looked at her incredulously, "Me?! You were the one who was avoiding. That's not fair." I pouted.

I could feel the air around us physically change as she brought our conversation back on track.

"Yes, I was there. I stayed by you until Wilson came in and then apparently you woke up a couple minutes later."

She stared at me, her eyes traveling to my disheveled look, more so than usual, and then to my burned hand. I consciously hid it in my pocket as she continued.

"I'm fed up. Every time you do something stupid I make excuses for you, but I'm tired House. You could have died you know that. You could have honestly died. That's three times that I've battled with the fact that I might have lost you. Only to be relieved that you're going to be fine and then I get angry that you actually put yourself in such idiotic situations! Grow up House, act your age."

Despite the fact that she shook with anger her voice got no louder than a whisper and her eyes were full of disappointment.

"Did you come here to confirm that there was nothing out there? Or did you come here to mock the fact that I sat by your side? Or both? Because honestly I don't need or want to hear it. I hate the fact that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try I can never let go of you."

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't particularly describe the feelings that were coursing through me. I was angry at her for being so blunt; happy that she _had been_ beside me; and void of emotion that she did still have feelings for me.

I reached out to her with my burned hand, longing to feel the softness of her robe. Instead, she backed away into the door she had closed when Chase had gone inside.

"Cameron," I pleaded.

"Why now House? When I've finally gotten my life together?"

"You're telling me you love _him?_" I questioned furiously.

"No I don't, but he's safe – something - something you'll never be." Her demeanor had changed: she no longer was standing tall, but had shrunk ever so, making her look vulnerable and weak.

When I pulled her into my arms this time, she didn't protest, but gladly gave in, allowing me to wrap myself around her. I could feel her tears penetrating through my shirt, creating a tingling sensation when they hit my skin. She wasn't racking with sobs, but crying softly. I was glad that this time, I put my arms around her, returning the warmth that she gave off, hugging her, pressing her to me. A couple walked past us, and yet we stood frozen in time, in that position, on that spot.

I couldn't tell when the clocks started working again, but she stopped shaking and withdrew herself. Her eyes were blotchy and her nose red; yet I found that endearingly cute. I had seen her look hot which totally turned me on; however, the look she sported now did something unusual to my heart. Even without her warmth I didn't feel the cold.

Her hand on the door knob, she leaned towards me and whispered into my ear sadly: "You can't always get what you want," and proceeded to press her pink lips against my scruffy cheek. I watched her step into her apartment and close the door.

I stood there staring at where she had been, touching my cheek, rubbing my thumb over the spot her lips had claimed a few seconds ago. I turned away my mind still in a daze, taking a couple of steps, when I realized that my limp wasn't as bad; my pain unnoticeable.

Getting into the elevator and hitting the 'G' button, I murmured to no one, "But if you try, you get what you need."

* * *

**A/N: I tried to convey my feelings through my fics, and I hope you guys understood it. I got the idea of Cameron waiting by him, when House on the bed reminded me of "No Reason" I wanted to show that House was still thinking of Cameron, and when he saw her blurry vision, he thought that maybe this was heavean because his dreams were being answered. He stuck the knife in the socket because if there was an after life, she would be there. It was only after he thought about it, he realized that she in fact had been with him. **

**Also - this is going to be a one shot. Every chapter will be a one shot, unrelated to the one before or after; only to the episode it is about. **

**I happen to like Chase alot, and I didn't want to portray him as a bad guy. Sorry to all you Chase haters out there. I also thought that them being together now they would be on first name basis, even though it was awkward to write.**

**Okay -- done writing - now its your turn. **

**REVIEW!!!!!!**

**fishyfin1**


	3. Guardian Angels

**Disclaimer: Guess what?? I don't own it!**

**A/N: Takes place after Guardian Angels. I loved all the Hameron in the episode!! And when he took the coffee from her??? How adorable! Got the idea for this chap when Cameron was following House in the lunch line, and asked him if Wilson got annoyed with him too, and it got me thinking - maybe she/ both think of her as becoming a friend to him. **

* * *

Her ass could definitely rival Cuddy's, especially in that ER uniform. Who knew that the hospital uniforms could be such a tease? He walked out of the hospital and hobbled to his car, his thoughts filled with a certain blonde someone who had robbed him, quite intelligently, of a hundred bucks. He had to admit, he liked her sneakiness and feisty ways: she was someone he could verbally spar with, and she kept him on is toes. And despite her newfound courage and snark, her old self – the one that saw the good in everyone - who refused to believe that there was no hope, still existed and shone through.

Driving out of the hospital's parking lot, he passed a convenience store when it hit him that today was Friday and Wilson would be inviting himself over – again. That man never seemed to get the fact that he was unwanted. He was so sure that House needed the company that he totally ignored House's blatant remarks of kicking his best friend out.

Groaning, he turned back at the next light, knowing that there was no beer left at home. He parked in the handicapped spot, smirking at the car that was on its second round of the busy parking lot looking for an empty space.

He hobbled to the grocery store, made a direct path to the beer, pushing anyone who got in his way aside – including a pimply teenager who was stocking cans of corn. Arriving at the beer cases, he stared at them thoughtfully before turning to the teen.

"You, I need you to grab me two cases." Glaring at the employee who just stood there staring at him, he barked, "Now! Can't you see I'm crippled?"

The nervous kid hurriedly picked up the cases and accompanied House to the cash register where House paid for the beer. The teen then followed House, having trouble keeping up with him and juggling the cases of beer.

"Uh, where do you want them sir?"

"The back seat will do. Hurry up won't you?"

"Y – yeah." The kid squeaked.

House called out a rude 'thanks' – which for him was a great accomplishment - and sped away.

* * *

He stopped outside his green apartment door, and pressed an ear to it. Sure enough, the distinctive sound of the TV could be heard, and judging by the language, it was one of Wilson's soap operas. He pushed the door open and walked in, creating enough ruckus to know that he had entered.

"If you _have_ to be here, can you at least not watch that… thing on my TV? You're tainting it. They're airing a Rolling Stones concert in 3… 2… 1!"

House plopped down beside Wilson and grabbed the remote from his hand just in time for the beginning of the concert.

"Sorry Jimmy," he pulled a long, sympathetic face and returned his concentration to the program in front of him, though not before saying, "there's beer in the car. You'll have to get it."

Just as Wilson was about to retort something back, the door bell rang.

House sent his friend a questioning look. "Did you order pizza? Cuz, I'm not paying for it." The bell rang again, this time more persistently, "I'm also not getting the door."

A female voice emerged from the vicinity of his kitchen making House drop the remote, allowing Wilson take it back and flip channels, a smirk plastered on his face.

"I'll get it."

"What is _she_ doing here?" House questioned through clenched teeth, plucking the remote from Wilson's hand and changing back.

"I invited her," Wilson said smugly, and relaxed back into the couch.

"Hey Dr. House."

Groaning House dared to ask, "You invited him here too?"

"Well, he said that you told him to talk to me if he wanted to hang, and since Friday's our day, I couldn't see why we couldn't add another person."

Wilson looked at Henry and waved him to a chair, "Join us."

"As long as you're…" House barely finished as the uncertified doctor cut in.

"… paying. I know. I got money."

There was a knock on the door again when House flared up, "There better not be anymore interruptions! Who is that now?"

Wilson got up, "I don't know. I think its Cameron; she never came in after she let Henry in."

Their doubts were answered by an agitated Cameron banging on the door. "Open the damn thing. I have two cases of beer in my hand."

Wilson hurried along and met her demands, going beyond by taking the cases from her hands and laying them on House's kitchen counter.

"How did you get into my car?" A curious House questioned.

"You left your keys on the table by the door." She shrugged off her light beige coat to reveal a low cut v – neck, long sleeved, baby blue shirt, over a pair of tight fitting, dark blue, skinny jeans. She proceeded bare foot onto House's plush, beige rug and took Wilson's seat beside him.

Seeing his seat preoccupied, Wilson settled himself on the rug, pushing the coffee table aside to stretch his legs comfortably.

"You're all invading my house. I could file a complaint against you," House grumbled. Turning his eyes to feast on his ex-employee, who was now lounging comfortable, her legs on House's coffee table, he questioned, "Why are you here? And where's your Aussie puppy?"

Taking her time to take a drag of the beer, she replied, "I was going to protect Henry, but then you stupidly decided to fire him. Well I couldn't say no to that face," she paused as Henry pulled puppy dog eyes that could rival House's and continued, "so I followed him here. And Chase is doing the nightshift."

"The truth comes out – you were lonely tonight. And Henry's fired, there's no need to protect him."

"Oh – I was long past protecting him. We're now friends." And to prove that statement, the two clicked their beer bottles together. "So, what are we watching?"

"Rolling Stones concert… and, I bought that beer for _myself_." House reached over and grabbed the bottle from her, taking a sip of the alcoholic drink. Pulling a face, he frowned at the bottle and then its previous owner and accused, "You ruined it. It tastes of strawberry."

Taking her drink back, Cameron grinned, "I just bought a new tube." Running her tongue enticingly over her glossed lips she smirked, "Like it?"

"No." House got up to get himself a new bottle, though not before calling over his shoulder to his long time accomplices, newly found annoyances, "Don't you dare touch the remote."

* * *

Three hours later and 20 minutes into Transformers and Wilson was dozing off on the floor, a slice of pizza drooping from his hand. Henry had left after eating (and paying) making some excuse about being old and needing sleep. Nobody stopped him. An empty pizza box was lying open on the table beside two pairs of feet, belonging to the only conscious people in the room. Beer bottles littered the room, and the entire scene was cast in the faint glow of the TV.

Cameron sat at the edge of the couch focused entirely on the movie, a slice of pizza frozen in front of her, while her mouth unconsciously chewed. House on the other hand was propped up at the opposite end, sprawled diagonally across the couch and the table, his feet inches away from Cameron. He was getting just as many kicks from watching her as he was from the movie. Deciding to have a little more fun, he moved to pick up the remote, totally oblivious to an occupied Cameron. Pushing the pause button with his index finger, he didn't have to wait too long for a reaction.

"_Why_ would you do that?" she yelled.

"I have to go to the washroom," he stated simply, pulling his legs off the table, nudging Wilson then stepping on his leg, and heading in the direction of his bathroom.

Sending House an unnoticed glare, Cameron glanced around the room and shook her head at the mess. Getting into 'Cameron' mode, she got up, taking extra care of Wilson who was in a deep sleep and started cleaning up. She discarded the empty bottles and placed the pizza box on House's kitchen counter. Taking a sweeping glance to ensure that everything was moderately okay, she sat back down, feeling at home.

She was joined a few minutes later by House who promptly started the movie up again. It wasn't before long though, that Cameron began to shiver, and seeing no available cushion, wrapped her arms tightly around herself. After a few minutes of shaking, House got exasperated and stopped the movie once more.

"I have an extra blanket on my bed."

Smiling gratefully, she walked over to his bedroom reminiscing about the last time she had been in here, worried when he didn't pick up the phone. Plucking up a white soft blanket, she paused for a moment holding the cloth to her nose and drinking in his scent. After she had her fill, she made her way back to the couch, and spread the blanket over herself. She waited for him to press play, but nothing happened.

House just watched her, his eyes boring through the side of her head, when she finally looked at him and asked, "What"

"That's mine."

"Seriously, you have sharing problems. You just told me to get it."

"Uh – no, you're the one with sharing problems. You're just hogging the blanket."

"_You_ want to _share _the blanket with _me?_" she questioned incredulously, her eyes wide.

"_Yes_," he declared, imitating her, and reached for the white fabric.

Uncertainly she handed him half, and then waited for the movie to start. When again, she was greeted with silence.

"Okay, _now_ what?" she looked at him.

"You're going to have to move closer," he indicated with hand gestures.

"You're ready for that stage?"

"I didn't know we were moving in stages."

Shrugging she shifted so that they were pressed up against each other. "You better start it up, or else Wilson's going to wake up from the lack of noise."

"Just so you know, our stages weren't going in order. We went from boss to employee, to dating, to hating, to normal, to making out, to anger, to 'friendship.' So it's pretty hard to predict what's going to happen next." And with that Shia LaBeouf started talking.

"It wasn't dating, it was just one date. Big difference," she murmured, and fell silent.

* * *

The movie finally over, having been only disturbed by Wilson's punctuating snores, House and Cameron sat wrapped together. His arm had found its way around her, while her head rested tiredly on his toned chest.

"Megan Fox is _hot! _I'd so do her. Actually, one of my hookers looks like her." He sighed dreamily.

Rolling her eyes she asked, "Do all your hookers look like someone else? Is that how you pick them?"

"Yup, I have one who resembles Jennifer Anniston, Eva Mendez, and now with your new hair, there's one that looks like you."

There's eyes met as Cameron registered the fact that he was having sex with someone who looked like her and after a few moments of staring at him, she got up and cleared her throat.

"It's late, I should get going."

She made her way into the kitchen where she rinsed out her plate and then stuck it in the dishwasher. Stopping to get a drink of water she felt a pair of strong arms trap her against the granite.

"You're not safe without the cane. You just sneak up on people like that," she turned to find herself in his arms. Wiping her hands against his shirt, she bunched up the edges and held them like she was holding his gaze.

"What are you doing?"

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I was getting a drink of water, and now I'm going to leave."

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought we already went over that. Remember Henry?"

"So we're friends now? Is that what you think?"

"Well… we're getting there. I just had dinner at your house. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Mmm."

"House let go. It's late, I have to leave." She struggled, only causing him to get a tighter grip on her, keeping her firmly pinned against the counter with his hips.

"I didn't decide if you could come here, but I can decide if you're going to leave."

"Grow up House," she teased, sticking her head up, her lips curved into a smile, "and let go."

"You know," he thoughtfully tilted his head, "when you smile like that, you actually do look like the hooker."

Changing her expression from playful to seductive she asked, "How about now?"

"Now that just turns me on."

She ground her hips against his and whispered huskily, "Oh yeah?"

Groaning House replied, "Yeah."

Inching up, her lips stopped inches away from his, his breath hot against her face, the scent of pizza and beer from both mixing into the air.

"How about now?"

He growled at her teasing ways, and let one hand dig deep into her back, while the other hungrily ran up her side, pressing hard against her curves and cupped her cheek roughly. He let out a low "Cameron" and gazed piercingly into her now dark green eyes.

Fulfilling his unspoken need, she pressed her lips against his, not stopping to wait as her tongue found its way into his mouth. Engaged in a kiss just as hot and heavy as the one in the hospital, House found his mind fogging up unaware of his surrounding, focused just on the person he was making out with.

Feeling him loosen his grip on her waist to play with her hair, Cameron quickly emerged from the tangle, and swiftly made her way to the door, her coat in her hand. Smirking at him, she ran her tongue over her swollen lips, "That was fun. We should do it again sometime," and left with a wink.

She shut the door behind her with a loud thud; causing Wilson woke up from the noise and look around for his friend in the kitchen. He spoke up groggily, banging his head on the table.

"Ow! What happened? What'd I miss?" He rubbed his head sleepily and looked up for an answer.

"Oh, nothing…" And with that, House limped towards his bedroom, his mind replaying the night like a broken record.

* * *

**Sooo???? I honestly cannot wait for this weeks episode - there better be some more Hameron moments!! Hee Foreman's back!!!**

**Review - tell me what you think! I had fun writing this one - it's alot lighter than the other two endings. Review plzzzzzz... wow - i cannot believe I'm begging... Well actually I can:D**

**fishyfin1**


	4. Whatever it Takes

**Disclaimer: Hameron scenes were lacking in the past two episodes - do you honestly think I own it?**

**A/N: I was honestly disappointed with the lack of Hameron - well just Cameron for that matter - in "Mirror Mirror" so I just couldn't write a fic for that eppy. Still, I needed to get back into the 'Hameron' mood, so I _made_ myself write this. Makes me happy just thinking H/Ca, but I'm not too fond of this one. Oh well ... It's got Wuddy :D **

**Kk- i got a couple of reviews saying that this was confusing - so i tried to make it easier - the first scene takes place when Cameron's talking to Foreman about why she interfered, and the next one is at House's house! hee hee. And after that, its back in the lounge (the place where they watch TV and eat) with Cameron, who is later joined by Chase and Foreman and finally House. **

**O - and the PoV changes from Cameron to House (alternating)**

**Anyways, Enjoy!! (hopefully)**

* * *

"I miss the excitement," I heard myself say, a message hidden between the lines. 

Looking into Foreman's eyes I knew that he had deciphered the code and confirmed it a few seconds later.

"Is that _all_ you miss?"

I just shook my head, smiled wistfully, got up and walked away. I still couldn't determine if everyone _knew_ that I still had feelings for House, or that they just couldn't let go of the idea; therefore seeing what they wanted. I had taken the huge leaps by going out with Chase and quitting and yet he and Foreman both thought that I was blindly chasing House. Maybe there was some truth to that: no matter how hard I tried, everything always came back to him. TGIF - I couldn't have been happier to get away and spend two glorious days from the hectic world of medicine.

* * *

"Quit whining House," my Wilson stated from the opposite end of my couch, "You knew it was coming: she's too wise for you." 

I snorted, "Whatever, it's not like I was trying."

"Yeah, well," he let out a whoop, swinging his glass of scotch towards me, "You've got 24 hours of clinic duty waiting for you on Monday."

"That and an amazingly hot new candidate who will do anything I say. And when I say anything, I mean _anything_." I said raising my eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't even want to know. So tell me, how long is this game of yours going to last? Won't the other doctors get pissed off."

"Which makes it all the more fun," I smiled gleefully before sighing in bliss, "Just think, I now have two drop dead gorgeous candidates to choose from. Makes going to work so much better. I just have to come up with a way to make them… how do I say it… more _enjoyable_ for me." I reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount into both our glasses.

"Do you ever think of anything else besides sex?" Wilson questioned, disgusted.

"This is coming from the man who has gone through three wives because he has problems with being faithful. And yes, I think of motorcycles, canes, medicine – preferably vicodin – and… that's about it."

"If you must know…" he began, rolling his eyes at my previous statement.

However, I cut him off. "No I mustn't."

Completely ignoring me he continued, "I've become better. I just needed a woman who I admired and respected. Someone I could look up to."

Silence hung between us as I stared at him, mouth open. "No… way!"

"You can't tell _anyone_," he whispered, looking panicked.

"_You _didn't tell me!" I accused.

"I needed to know for sure, and well… I wasn't too sure about how you'd react. You guys did have that thing, and you keep hitting on her."

"That was ages ago, and I hit on anything with boobs and a butt. But seriously, I need a moment."

I leaned back, giving the news time to wash over me. I wasn't really shocked: ever since their date to that art gallery, I knew that something was going to come from it, I just didn't expect it so soon.

Breaking into my thoughts he said, "You know you could have it too."

"A threesome? I know she's kinky, but I think even she has her limits."

"Okay, nasty images, and that's not what I meant. Maybe you still have a chance, rumor has it that," he made a lame attempt at a cough, and I sighed, knowing who he was about to bring up, "someone and Chase were arguing about you."

Ignoring his futile attempt to get me to admit my feelings for Cameron – for what was the 137th time - I dodged, turning the conversation back to his newfound love, "You're not going to ask her to cover up her fun bags, right? Because then, I'd have real problems."

Draining his glass, he held it out for more, "What's the harm? You only get to see them."

Pouring him some, I smirked – I have a bad influence on people.

* * *

Groaning, I peeled off a pair of blood covered gloves and threw them out. Making my way to wash up, I scrubbed vigorously, hoping that the action would bring some life into me. My plans for a relaxing weekend went down the drain the moment I stepped home, when I got a call from my best friend that she had gotten engaged. Of course, I had to drive for two hours and spend the entire weekend with her, even though her fiancé was attached at the hip making the whole "heart to heart" impossible. However, after a late girls night out on Sunday (we managed to get rid of him, and I managed to get the juicy details) I came home at midnight – last night. 

This was why I was sitting in the doctor's lounge, watching reruns of '_Friends_' and eating a meal purchased from the cafeteria. Soon after Joey's third "How you doing" the door opened and Chase walked in, followed by Foreman.

Turning off the TV I stared at the two of them, trying to figure out why they were together.

"Honestly, I will never understand why the rest of the doctors never use this place," Foreman said as he made his way to the fridge.

"You … two," I questioned, still stuck on the fact that they were together.

"What?" Chase mocked taking a seat next to me, "We can be civilized. Right Foreman?"

"If you must know, we were just discussing House's new addition."

"She is so hot!" Chase managed to let out between bites of a sandwich.

Glaring at him, the two of us got up to join Foreman at the table.

"I heard," I said, trying extremely hard not to let my annoyance show. It still did because Chase sent me a pointed look.

"What?" I protested.

"How are you dating her when she still loves House?" Foreman questioned incredulously, shoving a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

"I take what I can get," Chase replied before changing the subject. "The new girl - bids on her are going fast. I'm going to have to print up more ballots."

"Which reminds me, how did the last pool go?" I enquired.

"I got him to go along with the vicodin story. He said the Viagra made him look desperate."

"You didn't win this time?" Foreman asked innocently.

"Nah, it would have looked too suspicious," Chase shot back with the equal amount of innocence.

"It also looks suspicious when you say I'm getting 50 and yet I still don't have anything. Come to think of it, it _is _suspicious."

The three of us swung our heads, the sight of House limping through the door in a pair of jeans and black rocker tee, making me think dirty. Shaking it off, I turned to Chase for an answer.

"You were the one who decided to take two days off." Reaching into his wallet, Chase pulled out a wad of bills and handed them to House, who accepted them and then proceeded to the fridge. We watched as he rummaged through the items inside before coming out with a plate of pizza.

"Good old Wilson," he said, confirming the fact that he hadn't taken the time to pack himself a lunch.

A few minutes later, taking out the now hot lunch from the microwave, House took a seat at the table joining us. Looking around he commented, "Just like the good old times. Ah – how life throws us back together."

"You never ate lunch with us," Foreman said.

"I've always wanted to. It's the thought that counts right? So, tell me Chase, what are you going to spend your prize money on?"

Taking a bite from his half eaten sandwich, Chase replied, "Haven't decided."

"You know what I'm going to spend my money on?"

"Strippers?" Foreman volunteered.

"Please, what do you think the new girl's here for? And I'm trying to convince Thirteen. The mirror guy was imitating me and said that she was hot. I'm supposed to act on it, right?" He directed the question to Foreman, who answered by smiling and filling up his mouth

My appetite suddenly disappeared: I had been replaced. It's not like I'm a love sick puppy or some silly girl with a crush, but after spending a weekend with my friend who was moving on with her life, I couldn't help but feel that I was stuck in a rut. My job was boring – eventful, but boring – and my relationship with Chase, though sweet and totally adorable, was definitely not going to last. That, and the fact that I simply could not give up House no matter how hard I tried just added to my bad mood.

Pushing my plate aside, I got up, "I should get back. It's pretty busy in the ER today."

Sending me a worried look, Chase reached for my unfinished salad.

"I'm okay," I lied and placed a kiss on his cheek. "See you guys around," I aimed at Foreman and House and walked out.

* * *

I could spot her leaning against a tree, staring at the lake and limped towards her, "Liar, liar pants on fire." 

She looked at me and smiled softly, "I learned from the best. How did you know I was here?"

"One the ER is never busy on Mondays and two, you took your coat. So why exactly did you rush out from there? Did our little gathering remind you too much of old times?"

"Don't you have six other brains to pick apart? You've already spent three years on mine. Move on. Use the fresh meat."

"Maybe I should be telling you the same thing?" I questioned, joining her against the tree, my leg aching more than usual today.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she dismissed and resumed her gaze on the lake.

"I think you do."

"I'm over you, remember?"

"Hm… no," I said refusing to believe that. Maybe I had grown fonder of her than I cared to admit.

"If it makes you happy."

"It does." She shot me a glare and went back to the water.

"You know what's more interesting than water? Monster Trucks."

* * *

I slowly turned my head towards him and let out a soft, "Like in our non – date monster trucks?" 

"No like in Cuddy's breasts, monster trucks."

"I'm dating Chase remember?"

"So break up with him, or don't tell him. I don't think he'd be too happy to know that I'm buying the tickets from the gamble money."

I thought about it for a moment, remembering that wonderful night. "Well I don't see why I have to break up with him. It's not a date right?"

"Right," he smirked. "Pick you up at 8 on Friday?"

I grinned, "Sure," and leaned comfortably against the wide trunk, the water, that had seemed so grey before, now sparkling in the sunlight. Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**A/N: It was mostly dialogue, cuz there wasn't much character development in the episode. Honestly though, the BETTER not make the new girl a love interest for House. Gotta love the plot line though! I loved that Foreman was right - Grumpy's freaky!!! Glad he's gone. And Cuddy not falling for House!**

**I also realized that there's alot of implied stuff going on in my fics - I actually don't give clear facts (I don't use names). It makes sense in my head - I was just wondering do you guys get it?**

**O - and rant bout last weeks, NEEDED CAMERON!! and I totally loved how House and Chase were in it together!! All three have learned from him! It's amazing!! Hee - House and Cuddy's 'fight'! **

**Honestly, they better wrap up the team chosing sub plot, cuz the other characters aren't getting enough screen time. And Thirteen's 'secret story life' is lame. I'm not intrigued in the least. Tell which other character do we actually know a past about (except for little tidbits)? I'd be more interested to find out about Wilson, or Cuddy's or Cameron's past. **

**Anyways... REVIEW!!!! **

**fishyfin1**


	5. Ugly You Don't Want to Know

**Disclaimer: Nope**

**A/N: I had taken a temporary hiatus from fanfic, mainly due to my lack of inspiration. Hate the lack of Hameron on House - well just the lack of Cameron! Anyways, hope you enjoy this chap and understand House and Cameron's feelings/ thoughts. Starts off during Ugly and then switches to You Don't Want to Know.**

* * *

Wilson left the recording room leaving a very worried House behind. House rubbed his hands over his face, his mind racing. There was no way that he had succumbed to the average man's way of being rendered dumbfounded before a gorgeous female. He was Gregory House – he was above the average.

Wrapped in his own thoughts which begged him to find a loophole in the scenario, he absent mindedly took to playing with the dial, rewinding and forwarding the tape. When he liked someone, he became wittier and even more charming. His pick up lines came out creative and original and always worked – Stacy was proof of that: hadn't she moved in within a week? Instead of freezing, his brain worked in overdrive willing him to get his prize.

Like the tape, his mind went reeling to before Stacy, back to college. He remembered eagerly the couple of girls he had been attracted to in his first year. Mixed with the anticipation of freedom and the reassurance that he would finally be staying in one place, he had started college on high spirits. Medicine, booze, and girls – the horizon had stretched out in front of him. He flashed back to scenes from his years studying and an image of him in an arched classroom, sitting a couple of rows from the front regained clarity in his mind. The professor had just asked him a question and having actually done his work the night before, he knew the answer. Just as he was about to reply, one of his classmates – who also happened to be drop a dead gorgeous, perfectly shaped brunette – turned to face him and shot him a smile. A smile that House to this day was convinced was a flirtatious grin, while his roommate back then insisted was a mocking smirk. Whatever category they smile registered under; it had succeeded to cause House to lose his train of thought, his mouth agape, and eyes glazed over as he gave up control of his brain.

The image went out of focus as House sat up triumphantly, an explanation for his insanity at hand. He was only stupid around girls he _knew_ he didn't want, but instead found extremely enticing. As for the girls he did have feelings for, he was his normal self – just a couple of times more appealing. It explained everything: why he was an blubbering fool around Thirteen and his typical self around Stacy and…

"Cameron!" House exclaimed as straightened, staring at Cameron's frozen face on the screen, unknowingly completing his thoughts while letting out his surprise. He didn't know that she had been interviewed. He thought the documentary was about this kid, not the past of the doctor treating him.

Still, he pushed his annoyance with the TV crew aside as he looked at her face, her eyebrows drawn together. A look, he deduced from three years with her, that she had just snapped back to reality, just taken in her surroundings.

Weeks of not hearing her voice, and sheer curiosity made him rewind to the beginning of her scene and press play. Her voice rang out, definitely distracted; yet, so enjoyable. He watched in silence as the tiresome lady pestered her with questions on working with him, clearly distracting her from doing her job, while an even more annoying patient tried to _not_ swear. A slow smile spread across his face as she rambled semi praises for him: they had picked the wrong person if they wanted any dirt on him. It was her next line that caused him to do a double take.

"I love doctor House."

Rewinding the part and playing it again to ensure he had heard correctly, he left the scene on pause to let the words sink in. He had known that she initially had had feelings for him, but her relationship with Chase and her adamant denial of harboring feelings for him had made him think that maybe, just maybe, she had moved on. Leaning forward to continue the scene he hoped to get a clearer meaning of the context of the word 'love.'

He let out a bark of laughter at her next couple of lines, "he was always stimulating… not - in - an - erotic sense of the word." He couldn't help but find it hilarious that a beautiful, smart, witty, young woman like her would fall for a misanthrope, old grouch like him. And as the already known truth brightened within, emotions coursed through like never before: His respect for her gained tenfold for sticking with him and actually maintaining feelings. The same point brought around insulting names for such as 'idiot,' or 'stupid.' Then there was the one that made the blood rush north as he though of Cameron dreaming about him erotically stimulating her. It also made him nervous to know that she still loved him, because his excuses that they would never last, he would hurt her, and she only wanted to change him, were all gone, leaving him with no wall to hide behind. And lastly, an emotion so strong that it warmed every inch of his body, burned hot, that he dared not give it a name, because then - he would have to admit that he loved her too.

Knowing that if a relationship with him and Cameron was to work, now would be the perfect timing, caused him to do what he did best – avoid it. And with that, he stopped the tape and decided to focus on medicine and firing someone.

* * *

House entered his office staring at a solitude card, examining its surface, trying to figure out how it ever got onto the other side of the glass window. He _would_ find out how to do that trick if it was the last thing he did.

Tossing the card aside, concluding that it wasn't going to tell him anything, he looked up at his desk, longing to lounge in his chair, feet up, music blaring into his ears; but the sight that greeted him, did not cooperate with his fantasy. Cameron was sitting in his chair, watching him with a gaze so intense, it could have passed for his own. In her hands was a single envelope that she was fingering, turning it in her hands every so often.

Seeing her there threw him off guard. He hadn't managed to forget about her, or the fact that she loved him, but if he worked hard enough, he could at least push it to the back of his head. Her sitting before him brought those thoughts rushing forward, leaving his palms sweatier than normal and his heart beat a tad faster than usual.

"My seat," he said, rooted to the spot. After talking a closer look at the envelope in her hand he added, "And my garbage."

She just stared at him, her face blank, when she finally laid the envelope on his desk and pushed it towards him till it rested at the edge.

Ignoring her movement he took a seat on his couch, hanging his cane on the arm rest. House then proceeded to fish into his back pocket until he found his iPod and stuck the headphones into his ears: clearly he wasn't going to pay attention to her.

Before he had a chance to pick out a song, she spoke, "You could have died."

He looked at her strangely trying to size up her exact thoughts, but she had learnt too well, and her eyes had heavy curtains drawn over.

"I knew I wasn't going to."

"What if it was infectious? What if you had made a mistake? You're not perfect? Why didn't anyone stop you? Wilson, Foreman or," she touched the envelope briefly before pulling her hands away, "Remy."

"Who?"

"Thirteen," she said exasperated, the first real emotion she had let out.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Why didn't they stop you?"

"Why are you asking me?" he shot back. The iPod lay still in his lap. He was now curious to see where she was going with this.

Shaking off the topic, Cameron picked up the envelope and tossed it at him, Frisbee style. The object landed in his lap, and the only sign that showed he was aware of what just happened were his eyes flicking to the piece of paper and back to her.

"You never opened it," she accused, "What's so different?"

There was a note of nervousness in her voice that House detected and he could guess where it was coming from. Cameron was not a baby, or a lovesick fool, but her recent realization that she still loved House had made her take action. She wasn't getting any younger, and it was either now or never. She had to find out if he felt the same way about her, because if not, she had convinced herself every night for the past week, she would move on. And despite all that, she couldn't help but think that she would never truly be able to give him up.

When the news came through the office grape vine that House had tested Thirteen for something, Cameron had gone straight to Thirteen herself. She could sympathize having been in the same boat years ago, and thought that though the new girl appeared to be strong, she must be feeling betrayed and confused at what House had done. When Thirteen told Cameron that even though she was shaken up, she admired House for not revealing the results, Cameron had been shocked. Mumbling something about being paged to the ER, she walked away in a daze, thoughts of House liking this new girl better than her, swarming in her head.

And now Cameron decided she needed the truth, because contemplating this any further resulted in only one thing: her being hurt.

"Well?" she asked, impatience mixed with anxiousness.

"It had nothing to do with me," he said lamely.

Cameron stared at him disbelievingly, "What does anything you do have to do with you? How did my results have anything to do with you?"

"What if you had had AIDS? It affected me because you were working with me."

"Well, it's not contagious and somehow I don't think we'd have had sex," she stated icily, hating the way he was skirting around the issue.

"Look," he said, hating this conversation, hating anything with him as the subject, "the situations were different, the people were different. She made a good case, and I respected that."

A heavy silence descended upon them, and House closed his eyes desperately trying to sort his feelings. Having Cameron mere feet away from him, did not do any help, instead increased his body's uncooperation. He needed to know for sure _why_ he was having this conversation with her, convinced it was related to her confession of loving him. He had an idea, but his stupid body wouldn't let him think.

Cameron meanwhile, sat still, staring at House, watching him intently making full use of this now rare opportunity. She admitted, that the only reason she was here was because she was jealous: jealous of Thirteen who had managed to gain House's respect a lot quicker than she had, and jealous that Thirteen would replace her. Pushing the chair back, she got up swiftly and made her way to House, stopping before him, her face above his.

Feeling a shadow, House opened one eye drinking in the intensity of the green above him. Her eyes were no longer shielded but open for him to look into, and he was falling fast, as he was quickly able to decipher all that she was feeling.

"Has she replaced me?" Cameron asked, not moving, waiting for him to answer, now vulnerable before her the man she loved.

He never replied but opened the other eye, her question confirming that jealousy was the reason she was here. When she looked into them she stepped back, hit with a ton of bricks.

"You know," she whispered.

"I saw the tape," he said softly, a pain unrelated to his leg flew through him, scaring him as he saw her squeeze her eyes shut, and breath shakily.

His head followed Cameron out the door, as she fought to keep the tears back. House had known all this time that she loved him, known when he saw her in his chair, known throughout the entire conversation and hadn't acted upon it. And though she knew it was his character to do so, the tears fell fast as she left the hospital, because his eyes had told her that any sort of relationship with him wouldn't work because he wouldn't let it work.

He had rejected her. Reality did not coincide with her heart.

* * *

**A/N: Before you hate me, I decided that for the long break, I'll make this part of a multi chap arc; however it won't affect the any other chaps. **

**Review!!!**

**fishyfin1**


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